Chapter 4 When Heavens Fall

Lunamaria found that even though she was back in the Hangar of the Minerva, she couldn't catch her breath. Out of the ten of them that had first set out, only three of them had returned. Shawn, Dale, Chen, and the three GINN pilots plus the second pilot in the AWACS from the Titan had all been killed. Only her, Emily, and Shinn had come back from against the GUNDAMs, and even then there had been several close calls. Her ZAKU still bearing scorch marks from the stolen suits and any one of those shots could have killed her.

She leaned back against the headrest of her cockpit, her breathing seeming unnaturally loud in the confines of her helmet and so she took it off, watching it float away to the top of the cockpit. She wiped at the sweat on her forehead with a gloved hand, watching a handful of drops become suspended in the air above her. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, willing it to come back under control. A polite knock on the outside of her cockpit broke her reverie and she opened it up, revealing the blue haired pilot Emily.

"How are you doing Lunamaria?"

"Good, just double checking everything," lied Lunamaria, flashing a smile before she powered down all the systems in the ZAKU with a rapid flicking of switches. "Who are those two?"

"They're the GuAIZ R units that escaped from the Titan. Ricardo and Alexi I think their names are. They haven't really said much, no one else got off of the Titan besides them. Bogey 1 was targeting the lifeboats."

"Any good news?"

"Well, we lost seven suits and the Titan, but we shot down four and Bogey 1 is a lot more damaged than we are. A lot faster though, so I don't think we're going to catch it now. Don't know if that's good news, but that's what we got."

"Damn," said Lunamaria, despite the fact she felt a wave of relief wash over her at the fact. None too eager to go against the GUNDAMs again in the near future.

"Don't feel too bad, I'm not too eager to go out against them again," admitted Emily.

"Really?"

"Nope. Those guys are freaking machines."

"What does that make us then since managed to go toe to toe with them?"

"It makes us awesome Luna. Now let's get something to eat huh ma'am?"

"Sure, I'm always a little hungry after flying," said Lunamaria exiting the ZAKU and taking her helmet with her.

"So you were born on Earth?" asked Lunamaria as they floated down the hallway.

"Yup, Atlantic Federation. Big Catholic family, two brothers and two sisters. I moved to the PLANTs when I was 15 with my family. All naturals, but my dad's a biochemical engineer. Dr. Roger, J, Towers. Even among coordinators, the guy is a freaking genius. Been a colony girl ever since. You?"

"Junius Six since forever. I only left Larange when I went to the academy. Scariest day of my life was when Junius 7 got nuked. We saw the flash on Six and I watched it break apart. Weirdest thing is that everything just stopped when that happened. Cars, trains, mobilesuits, everything. We all just watched the colony break apart. It was just too unreal. I think that's why I joined up with ZAFT, I didn't want that to happen to Junius 6. What about you? You're old enough to have served in the last war.

"Old enough, yes. Participant? No. I got put on garrison duty in December 4 for the whole thing. I asked to be reassigned a few times, but they never did it. Wasn't all bad though since the December colonies are where all the elementary schools are. The kids loved seeing the mobilesuits."

"So you flew GINNs too?"

"DINNs actually. I wanted to be put on a Vosgulov class on Earth, but it never happened. I guess I was lucky in a way. I almost got sent to Alaska with the rest of my unit when we were going to make that big push, but I broke my arm in a volleyball accident a week before we were supposed to ship out. I was sorting files with my arm in a sling when they walked into the EA trap at Josh A. Nobody...well, nobody from my unit really got out of there."

"A lot of people didn't get out of there," lamented Lunamaria.

"Yeah. After that, they just kept me on December 4 until the end of the war. They were thinking about launching us to the battle of Jachin Due, as an all or nothing push, but before they came to a decision about it the war ended."

"Think that all of this will lead to another war?"

"I hope not. Last time we almost got wiped out with nukes. If it hadn't been for the Freedom and the Justice, I don't really want to think about that," admitted Emily. "I don't want to think it's Earth Forces doing this, but I mean who else would? The Junk Guild?"

"That's a good point. If they did raid Armory 1 though, is it worth starting another war over?"

"I don't know," answered Emily truthfully. "They did attack us, but the last time there was a war it almost turned into a total genocide. With the Imperials here now with their giant ships, who knows how they'd take us fighting a war?"

"They're kind of...weird too. Did you notice that? I mean I haven't seen that Imperial Colonel smile even once. He always looks like he wants to murder someone. You've been with him longer, what do you think of him?"

"I was with him for about half a day before we got on the Minerva so I don't really know a lot about him. He took me shopping which was nice, I got a lot of stuff for me and my sisters that you just can't afford on a pilots salary. I think that he's an actual aristocrat though, with titles that go with it."

"Like a duke or something?"

"Or something," agreed Emily. "Still, he is kind of odd."

"How so?"

"I don't think he's afraid to die."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I don't for sure," admitted Emily, noting the disbelieving look that Lunamaria was giving her. "But just the things he says and the way he acts. I mean, it's not normal. We were by hangar six when it was attacked and even with everything exploding and all the confusion, he stayed completely calm. Eerily so, like there wasn't anything going on at all. He even tried to fight the people responsible, and when I told him that he was going to get himself killed, he said that he hadn't been scared to die since he put on his uniform. Talking to him, he's been a soldier since he was 15. He's killed a lot of people too," added Emily, almost as an afterthought.

"He just told you that?"

"No, I asked him."

"That's really rude to do," admonished Lunamaria.

"I know, but I was curious. I mean he has skulls and a tonne of medals on his uniform, I thought that he must have done something to earn all of that."

"So how many did he kill?"

"He said something like 250 confirmed kills. He was a sniper. Really weird thing is that he's said that he's fought aliens."

"Like aliens for real? Green men from Mars?"

"Well I don't know what kinds, but he said that he's fought them."

"Think he was lying about it?" asked Lunamaria curiously.

"I don't think so. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to lie. I mean, you've seen how he dresses. It's like a 19th century aristocrat and that armor is strange too. I think he has the whole sense of honor and pride to go along with it too. The only time I ever saw him get angry, or even kind of angry was when he thought that I'd called him a coward."

"So how old is he?" asked Lunamaria mischievously.

"Twenty nine. Why? Thinking of putting the moves on him? Might be cute, short girl and a really tall man."

"Hey! I'm not that short and I'm not interested in him like. I mean he's nine years older than me and that's a big difference. No, I was thinking that maybe it was you trying to get a little closer to him. He is kind of handsome and you two aren't too far apart in age."

"Oh come on, if I was into robots I'd marry my GuAIZ. I don't even really think the guy knows what emotions are. Plus he's in on that religion that all the Imperials are a part of. I mean every single one of them all worships their Emperor like he's a god and I'm not getting anywhere near that. I don't need to join a cult. Did you ever see the priests? You could put one of them in a fifteenth century church painting and they'd fit right in. I don't think that they've really got the separation of church and state thing down yet. Plus, I think he's in to you Lunamaria."

"What? No!" said the magenta haired girl aghast.

"I think so," continued Emily. "The guy who doesn't say anything to anyone unless he has to makes a special point to say hello to you and be all formal and bow. Plus I think I caught him checking you out," added Emily grinning.

"But he's so much older than me."

"Yeah, but back in the day rich guys would marry sixteen year old girls all the time, even if they were sixty. I mean you're 20, so maybe you're already a spinster to him?"

Lunamaria slapped at Emily playfully.

"Don't joke like that, seriously."

"Alright, alright, I've had my fun. Still, wherever he's from he's obviously seen some a lot of stuff. You look into his eyes and it's like he's figuring out the best way to kill you."

Xxx

It had been several days since they had skirmished with Bogey 1 and the ship was noticeably more cramped. From the Imperial fleet, there was still no word. Rumor had it that an Imperial delegation had been killed at Armory 1 and following that, the fleet had retreated beyond the range of ZAFT to physically approach them and were refusing to answer hails. Who had been part of the delegation though, Heinrich did not know.

It was doubtful that it was a prelude to hostilities though. The lance batteries aboard the capital ships in the fleet could easily destroy the colonies of the PLANTs and the naval forces of ZAFT at standoff ranges, so there was no reason for subterfuge. No, it was more likely a security and political decision, one to make their coordinator counterparts understand that what had happened was unacceptable and that their tone had best be conciliatory next that they meet. So, with Heinrich and his aide so forgotten, he had adopted one of his leisure activities to while away the interim.

Heinrich was a voracious reader. Not of things of fiction or useless things like that, but information. History, philosophy, religious scripture, and most of all battlefield strategy. He could quote entire pages from memory, yet memorization was not his only mental capability. He liked to dissect, analyze, and come to conclusions based on his own reasoning skills.

He had not had the time to read in depth about the history this system, most of his time dedicated to learning their language and local customs. Now that he had read about the social and military climate of the last fifty years, he had come to a simple conclusion. The naturals and the coordinators, unless corralled by a stronger power, or unified against an outside and immediate threat, would kill each other.

There had been several attempts at total genocide already. Starting in the last war, it had changed from one of conquest to one of utter annihilation rather quickly. First with nuclear strikes, then with ZAFT trying to use its Genesis weapon to destroy all life on Earth once the tide of war had turned decisively against them.

The colonies had separated and become a safe haven for coordinators from the persecution that they received at earth in the previous decades. A growing resentment and genetic purity movement that had been gaining both power and momentum the more time progressed and the more parents that decided to have their children become coordinators. Yet, the genoism was not nearly so one sided as the coordinators wished everyone to believe. There was a deep sentiment in the PLANTs, in ZAFT particularly, even to this day that viewed naturals as inferior in all aspects to a coordinator. The physical superiority of the coordinators was minimal as a statistic, but the mental superiority was immense.

A coordinator could learn faster, think faster, and act faster than their natural counterparts. In essence, it was like pitting an elementary student against a highschool senior. A result of this, had lead the coordinators to view themselves with a sense of superiority. A view that naturals were little better than animals, jealous of them and their abilities. That like the neanderthals of ancient terra, the coordinators would replace them in due time, letting an inferior race die away into the echoes of history.

The naturals on the other hand viewed coordinators with suspicion and mistrust. Seeing them as evil abominations, that they had played god by altering their genes so completely. Almost an entirely other species, living on the colonies in space and shunning mother earth. As occupiers and overlords where they maintained a military presence on earth that had been allowed in the Junius treaty.

Both sides were right to a degree. The coordinators were superior to the naturals in nearly all respects, but in playing god with their genes were facing a growing fertility problem, one that in the coming decades would threaten the entirety of the PLANTs population. Unless the population was sustained by more naturals having coordinator babies and sending them to the PLANTs. A trend that was on a severe decline with coordinator resentment running high on Earth among the naturals. So even with so many resources spent on fertility treatment, coordinators were less likely to get pregnant by a factor of six than a natural, even with fertility treatment.

Time would kill the coordinators as surely as nuclear weapons unless they could learn to cure their infertility that their meddling gifts had brought them. It was reasons like this that most genetic manipulation was seen as heresy amongst both the Ecclesiarchy and the Mechanicus. Why it took centuries of testing with multiple test groups before they would even seriously debate new genetic enhancements from becoming widespread, if allowing them at all.

On Earth, Blue Cosmos was a growing power, though in the shadows more or less. They no longer hunted coordinators in lynch mobs, but ever tightening legislation and affirmative action programs were ensuring that coordinators were excluded in all but the most minimal of numbers from both private and public institutions. The only coordinator to ever run for public office in the heresy that they called democracy, had been booed off the stage in the country of India, in the Equatorial Union. Attacked even by a mob afterwards. In other places like the Atlantic Federation, they had been unable to even get on the ballot.

In the PLANTs, unless the person was already educated and trained with a highly sought after skill needed by the PLANTs, they could never hope to immigrate or attain employment of any kind if they were a natural. The standards had been raised in even many such service industries that excluded the ability of many naturals to attain employment. Such things as even a cashier needing to possess the ability to type a hundred and forty words per minute. Or be able to calculate the price of goods in long form in case the power went out in a certain time frame. Unnecessary skills and standards that served no purpose other than to provide a way to weed out naturals from being able to work for a business, without outright denying it.

Even loyal patriots such as Lieutenant Towers, possessing piloting skills on par and superior even to many coordinators, was excluded from many such positions. Heinrich had not spoken to her before when she had said she had been 0.2 of a percent off of an elites jacket, because he had seen no need to cause her grief. The final exam was done out of a score of fifty, with whole numbers. The average ZAFT pilot wasn't privy to that information, but Heinrich had learned that on a tour of one of their academies. It was impossible to score an 89.8% on a test. You would score a 90, or an 88, not 89.8%, unless the instructor was to make special conditions as to why points should be subtracted from the overall score for a variety of reasons. Towers' instructors had lowered her score for no other reason than the thought of a natural earning a rank among coordinator elites, was unbearable to them. So they had denied her red jacket and coveted elite status out of spite. Posted her on garrison duty, hoping to forget about her.

Heinrich was no fool and held no illusions that the coordinators no doubt felt the same way about him and the rest of the Imperials. Heinrich himself was educated, highly intelligent, a product of selective breeding and very, very mild genetic manipulation, but for all intents and purposes he was still natural born. Even tutored by the best and brightest throughout his youth, he would still be hard pressed to compete with even an average coordinator in sheer information processing and learning ability that they possessed. Not to compare that with the average Imperial citizen, who lacked what they considered a high school education, much less university.

They were polite, but with an air of inherent superiority when they dealt with Heinrich and the other Imperials like him. Their very way of dress was like something out of their distant past, perhaps solidifying the image of them being inferior, relics of a bygone time in humanity's evolution. Slow witted brutes, parading around foolishly like a monkey wearing a suit. How it must gall them then, to be like children before the achievements of the Mechanicus and the glory of the machine god. How the machine spirits that served the Imperium were so much wiser, and so much more capable than what they possessed. The techno wizardry and biomechanical achievements of the Imperium, outstripping even the coordinators by leaps and bounds.

On a whole though, the Imperials should have been in the same boat as the naturals, but they weren't. A strange phenomenon had occurred since coming to this system, one that was becoming beyond the ability of Imperial high command to ignore. They were getting stronger.

It was happening at various rates, differing from person to person, but the result was the same. The physical capabilities in things like raw strength, cellular regeneration, and healing had increased by a factor of four. Were a man able to lift one hundred kilos, he would now find himself able to lift four hundred and so on in that manner. Heinrich himself had fallen victim to this malady, having to relearn how to do simple things so as to not accidentally use too much force in doing even basic things.

Checking the time, Heinrich saw it to be nearly six in the morning as the ship measured time and soon the majority of the crew would be up and about, for its daily routine. Heinrich slept at most for six hours in a night and found he often rose early. A habit acquired from a life in the military and under constant deployment.

His articulated carapace armor was no doubt viewed as somewhat unnecessary, threatening even among the crew. It made his already large size all the more intimidating and wearing body armor aboard the ship could be sending the wrong message. That he either expected harm to come to him or himself to participate in violence, yet only by wearing his armor was he afforded the use of the magnetic soles in its boots.

"Sergeant, we're heading to the mess."

"Understood sir," answered Heinrich's aide dutifully, coming to attention by the door and opening it for his officer.

He was passing by a ready room where voices raised in anger were coming from. He was going to ignore it, when the phrase "destroy earth" was uttered. Now, even though the people here called their planet earth, the name of Holy Terra from antiquity, it still brought images to mind of someone launching an attack upon the Imperium. The phrase itself sending a lightning bolt of recognition through him,

"It was obviously just a joke," a young dark haired pilot said as Heinrich entered the room, ceramite boots falling heavily to the metal floor as the magnetic soles adhered to the decking. Were he among guardsmen, or even naval personnel, the room would have come to attention until such a time he saw fit to release them. There seemed to be a serious lack of respect for senior officers aboard ZAFT ships. Even with no real authority over them, he itched to make them show proper etiquette and military decorum.

Those present, included bridge officers, mechanics, pilots, and the Orb representative with her bodyguard remained where they were standing, or else lounging on green sofas. Though they were looking at him with somewhat perplexed expressions. Looking worlds different in actual battle armor than simple ceremonial dress.

"Forgive my intrusion, but I could not help but overhear you discussing some sort of harm befalling the planet. May I ask what it was about?"

"Junius 7's orbit has decayed and it looks like it's going to hit earth, sir," offered the Lunamaria, the magenta haired girl one of the few ZAFT pilots that seemed to adhere to proper military decorum on a regular basis.

"The entire remains of the colony?"

"Yes sir."

"I see, thank you Lieutenant Hawke. Could I trouble you to escort me to the bridge? I feel that I must speak with the Captain."

"Uh, of course sir," answered Lunamaria, quickly. "Right this way sir."

The bridge wasn't terribly far away, but it gave Heinrich enough time to let the information sink in. He had been kept out of the loop of things, why, he couldn't be sure, but nevertheless he was entirely displeased by the revelation. He wouldn't assume the worst that it had been with malicious intention that he had not been told or deliberate, but nevertheless it was an unacceptable breach of etiquette that he could not abide by.

The two guards to the bridge ascertained their intentions, before allowing them entrance, with Lunamaria being his 'guide' as things were, since he wasn't allowed in restricted areas without prior permission or a chaperone.

"Ma'am, Colonel von Shreider, 45th Mobile Siege Regiment reporting," said Heinrich, saluting crisply as he came to attention, letting off a miniature thunderclap, his aide waiting respectfully outside the bridge.

"At ease Colonel," said Gladys returning the salute. "How can I help you?"

"I have just learned, by chance I may add from Lt. Hawke and her comrades that there is a developing situation in regards to a destabilizing orbit of one of your destroyed colonies. I would have presumed this to have been of sufficient importance to allow me to be informed of it."

"I'm sorry that you felt you were kept out of the loop on this Colonel, but we've been busy trying to figure out how it happened and how to stop it from hitting the planet. With everything that was going on, I never even thought to tell you about it."

"Completely understandable Ma'am, but I do have to ask why the Imperial Navy was not informed of this. I am sure that they would be more than willing to lend a helping hand were you to request it."

"No one's been able to contact them. Ever since the shuttle at Armory One was destroyed they cut communications and moved halfway to Mars," admitted Gladys, unable to keep a certain level of awe out of her voice for the speed that the slow and bulky looking ships of the Imperial Navy were capable of.

"I heard some rumor of that as well Ma'am. Tell me though, who was on the shuttle that was destroyed?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know the specifics, but from what I understand it was several high ranking Guard officers and a Cardinal."

"Cardinal Sanchez?" asked Heinrich, his usually monotone voice taking on a note of both disbelief and the beginnings of anger. "How could you allow a cardinal to be killed under your supervision? Do you not understand the importance of a man who speaks for the Emperor? You are lucky that cutting communication is all the Imperium has done to you, for your monumental failure."

"Others besides the cardinal died at Armory One Colonel. A lot of other people," said Gladys reproachfully.

"Yet none so important as Cardinal Sanchez. You are lucky the Imperial Navy did not decide to fire a barrage of macro cannons and lance batteries into your colonies for your incompetence."

Gladys' mouth opened in an O of shock, startled at what Heinrich had said and what had been threatened. Heinrich himself realizing that he had made a mistake and spoken too harshly to the ZAFT officer.

"I spoke without thinking Captain Gladys, an unfortunate outburst of emotion rather than logical thought. We value and cherish our holy men and the word of the Emperor above all else within the Imperium. To have learned that one so venerated and well known as Cardinal Sanchez has met an untimely end unsettled me for a moment. I beg your forgiveness for such unkind words," even when being contrite, Heinrich still spoke in his stiff aristocratic manner, backbone never faltering from ramrod straight, even for an instant.

"I...understand that it must have been difficult news to hear, but I will not tolerate threats on board my ship," began Gladys slowly, as if thinking her words over carefully before she said them and repeating the Colonel's mistake. "Do you understand that Colonel?"

"Perfectly Ma'am," answered Heinrich, very well aware of the looks that he was now getting from the rest of the command crew and even his escort Lt. Hawke. Not hostile looks, Per say, but all the same unfriendly nonetheless.

"Now, you were saying that you could get a hold of the Imperial Fleet?"

"I can call them Ma'am, using my Imperial ID number. Whether they choose to respond or not is up to them. They will feel just as strongly about the Cardinal's death as I do, if not more so. Presented with a catastrophe of the proportions that we are now facing however, I believe that they will respond and do so swiftly.

Xxx

Captain Lee was on the bridge of his ship, Angry Beadle, when the call came through. It was a low tech hail, but one that came bearing a valid Imperial ID number. The very self same one of the Krieg Colonel whose regiment shared quarters with Lee's crew aboard the ship.

"Patch it through," said Lee.

"Aye aye, my lord," answered the communications officer.

"This is Colonel Heinrich von Shreider of the 45th Mobile Siege Regiment calling forces of the Imperial Navy. A class 3 threat to the systems planet has been detected as a result of space debris in a degrading orbit. Calling on any available naval assets to aide in averting planet strike."

A series of coordinates were given and then the message repeated. Lee pursed his lips in thought at the message. Officially they weren't supposed to interact with ZAFT or the EA until the Lord Admiral aboard the Insurmountable Glory gave them permission, but a class 3 threat was a grave threat indeed. It was an extinction level event.

"My Lord, how should I respond?" asked the Comm officer.

"Tell him...that the Angry beadle will make full burn for the destabilizing debris. Seven hours until arrival."

"Aye aye, my Lord."

And so with the Permission of the ultimate power aboard the Mars Class Battlecruiser, the plasma engines ignited to full burn, each like a miniature sun in the darkness of the void. In a way too though, they were little suns, bound fusion powering the mighty vessel of the Emperor's wrath and putting it to purpose.

Xxx

"So, we know then who was responsible for the death of Cardinal Sanchez?" asked Cardinal Hassan, his raspy voice still holding some measure of steel in his words.

He was seated in a great throne, his voluminous robes having been removed and his withered frame being cleaned by novitiates as well as his life support systems maintained by tech priests on permanent loan to the Ecclesiarchy. The scent of soap and oil permeating the air as the Cardinal was tended to both for his flesh and machines that kept the flesh of the holy man alive.

The room they were in was circular, dimly lit, with murals of angels and cherubs decorating the walls. gold arches snaked their way to the roof, more decorative than supportive and a great chandelier burning scented candles hovered overhead, held by a platinum chain and giving off thick sweet smelling smoke. The chandelier itself made of pure diamonds, fashioned into interlocking parts and holders, glittering like the night sky above them.

"Yes your grace. Long range Auspex readings have tracked the emission trail of the ships engines and found that it originated from the planets moon. The weapons and machines used by the ship are consistent with EA forces equipment. It is very likely that the perpetrators were regular military forces of the EA. ZAFT forces have been pursuing the ship, but have been unable to capture the stolen machines or inflict lasting damage to the vessel. Instead, they have suffered more casualties and lost another of their warships."

"I see. What of our spies on the planet? What have they uncovered? What of the origin of our new...acquaintances?"

"Your grace, it seems likely that the unit responsible is Phantom Pain. A special operations group under the control of various EA nations with strong links to Blue Cosmos and a technocratic group called LOGOS. It's de-facto leader we have learned is called Lord Djibril, a young man of great wealth and affluence. They appear to view themselves as something of a secret society."

"A cult?" the question from the Cardinal hung in the air heavy like a guillotine, momentarily stopping even the scrubbing of his withered body.

"No, your grace. The group appears concerned with political and monetary matters, not religious or ideological ones beyond the eradication of the Coordinators. Nonetheless, they do attempt to control the EA from behind the scenes, with varying degrees of success."

"I see," was all the Cardinal said, thinning eyebrows coming together as if in deep thought.

"We shall not act on this now, rather we will wait and ascertain this situation as it develops. You are dismissed. All of you," added the Cardinal, raising his voice even though it was unnecessary since that they were all listening intently to the conversation anyways.

"Your will be done your grace," said the Canoness, retreating from the chambers with the novitiates and techpriests, who had just finished bathing and clothing the Cardinal. When the great vaulted doors leading to his quarters were closed, leaving only a pair of Sororitas bodyguards on the outside of the soundproofed room, Hassan spoke.

"Reveal yourselves to me." It was a curt command and to the point. The kind a man gives when he has given orders all of his life that he is used to people obeying immediately.

For a moment, nothing happened, then as if the shadows on the walls were extending, like liquid taking shape, two figures clothed all in black revealed themselves from the recesses that they had been hiding in within the Cardinal's chambers.

Their black clothes making the two figures bodies all but formless, broken only by their shockingly enamel white masks done in the style of that of a court jester. Plain masks with simple designs with one smiling in joy, the other distraught in sorrow. With leaps and flips, the two took position in front of the Cardinal, bowing with theatrical flair in tandem to one another. Utterly silent, even with their exertions the two stood like statues before the Cardinal. Death cultists of the highest caliber, believing that only through their murderart could they please the Emperor.

"Find this Lord Djibril," rasped Hassan, his voice exciting the two death cultists. Their forms seeming to blend with one another until they were one, the enamel mask of joy looking to express for the both of them.

"And bring him to me, alive, and unharmed. Do not spill his blood."

The forms of the two cultists did an almost imperceptible shimmer the mask was replaced by that of the sad masked cultist.

"This is the Emperor's bidding that I set you upon. He may be responsible for the death of Cardinal Sanchez and we must question him."

The liquid shapes of the cultists shimmered again, just outside the light thrown off by the diamond chandelier and a third mask appeared, this piece of enamel white forged into the shape in inconsolable rage. Twisted and snarling.

"Even if we find that he is responsible though, he must not be harmed. You must be sure of this no matter what else may transpire. For the moment."

For a matter of heartbeats the forms of the death cultists remained still then they moved again and a fourth mask of enamel white appeared. One shaped in the unmistakable form of confusion.

"Yours is not to question, merely to obey. Now, go about the task I have set out for you. In the Emperor's name do I set you out for the task in front of you. This is a holy mission that you embark upon, remember that the ecclesiarchy is the one authorizing this and you are not allowed to fail."

The mass of shadow that was the death cultists seemed to squirm, before four distinct figures revealed themselves and bowed low to the Cardinal. Each with a different mask upon their face. Joy. Sorrow. Rage. Confusion. As one, they rose and melted back into the shadows of the Cardinal's chambers, disappearing like they had never even been there at all. Hassan could never be sure if one of them was ever present, even in his most intimate of moments, but he knew that he had nothing to fear of them. They were his tools, the fingers on his outstretched hand eager and willing to do his bidding as he wanted it done.

There was a war brewing, Hassan could feel it in his bones in the way that they ached. A sign from the Emperor. Just as he had felt something was amiss when they had first come to this system. Yet, he had not become so old, so high ranked in the Ecclesiarchy by being a simple minded fool. There was always a way to turn an unfortunate situation to your advantage, and Hassan was a master of doing that.

Xxx

Selena was walking in the grox pastures of her parents farm, but she couldn't quite remember how she got there or where she had been before. It was spring and the air was swollen thick and heavy with pollen and fuzzy seeds that traveled in great clouds of white fuzz.

It normally didn't bother Selena, and usually the hot sun beating down on her was sweltering. Now though, even under its intense rays, Selena felt cold, numb even. The air heavy with pollen was making her chest feel heavy, like it was hard to breathe, or that she couldn't.

She readjusted the rifle on her shoulder, the old reliable bolt action one that she carried to fend off tiger wolves and protect the herd. Normally she would be riding Lily, her mild mannered and good tempered pony that would take her anywhere that she wished to go at a comfortable trot when she went to count the herd and make sure that they were all still there. Come to think of it, where was the herd?

She coughed, trying to clear the flem from her throat, but all it seemed to do was make it harder to breathe, like gumbo was gathering in her throat and blocking it off. Her chest was feeling heavier and she took deeper breaths, trying to fill her lungs with air, but to no avail.

She was wheezing now, and starting to panic. Any deep breath she tried to take would fill her mouth with the fuzzy seeds of the plants that traveled through the air in thick clouds, inducing hacking coughing fits.

Selena was gripping at her throat as she sank to her knees gasping for air, panicking and vision darkening. No matter how hard she coughed, no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't take a breath. Her stomach was hurting like someone had punched her repeatedly and impossibly the white fuzzy seeds were enveloping her, suffocating her.

Unable to even gasp anymore, Selena tried to force the flem and whatever else was blocking her throat out, face turning purple. It felt like a lead brick was forcing its way out of her throat, scraping and dragging on its way out. Selena felt numb from a chill she couldn't explain. Just before the world turned dark entirely and Selena was buried alive by the swirling clouds of seed, she cleared her throat, throwing out a great jet of water.

Selena coughed into the lips that were pressed against her own as her purple eyes opened, but only seeing dimly. Her cough was followed by a jet of water, wretched out of her lungs, spilling out and to the concrete below her. She felt hands sit her up as she felt she nearly coughed out a lung, her body screaming for air and she inhaled in a great gasp, sending her into a coughing fit that shook her whole body. Comforting, but strong hands on her shoulder as she went through the process of coughing and gasping for air several times.

"Get it all out Selena, there you go," said a soothing voice. A hand gently moved a clump of blonde hair that was plastered to her face away from her eyes and Selena saw Rachael crouched over her.

"How are you feeling Sarge?"

"Little cold," answered the blonde, punctuating her words with a series of sharp coughs, her breathing finally returning to normal.

Selena was propped up against a concrete wall atop a set of stone stairs that water came halfway up. The street below, where once cars and buses traveled was now under six feet of water, submerging completely the smaller vehicles and half obscuring the larger. Many of which were overturned or on their side, rubber tires sticking out of the water like shabby flags. The buildings were worse though than the cars.

Windows were smashed, streets blocked with debris and the skyline closer to the sea looked much shorter, steel beams like protruding bones stood where skyscrapers once towered proudly above the cityscape. That was before they had been crushed under millions of gallons of water. There was no lights on in the city, bathing them in an inky darkness save for the odd emergency light or star which meant the power was out. Although that maybe wasn't a bad thing considering that half the city was submerged now. Selena didn't immediately remember what had happened or how she had gotten where she was.

"Is the Sergeant okay?" asked the subdued voice of their petite driver Lisa. The Guardswoman standing back with an utterly drenched family with two children.

"Feeling fine little lady," called out Selena, giving a weak thumbs up.

"Ready to get up?"

"Not quite yet Rachael," answered Selena, her legs still feeling a little too wobbly to support her if she stood up just yet. The sky overhead was dark, looking like it might rain and the longer that Selena sat, the more she remembered.

They had been warned of a class 3 space threat, a colony, or the remains of one that were large enough to cause and extinction level event were it to hit the planet intact. They had only been given a single days notice to evacuate from New York, a city of 30 million souls. The normally quick trip back from the beaches had turned into an uphill battle as the entire city had tried to leave in a mass exodus.

Against the mass of humanity, the sea of moving bodies, the Imperial Cadians had found the roads clogged and trains overfilled. With traffic accidents, derailments, and looting occurring in the panic to escape the city, they had traveled on foot, hoping to make it back to the embassy and evacuation. There would be Valkyrie's or Aquila shuttles to ferry them and the embassy staff out of the city, they only had to make it there.

They had made it halfway when the colony had fallen. Or at least, the broken pieces of it had. Large, flaming meteorites that had lit up the night sky as they fell in brilliant flashes of light. They had fallen over the horizon, away from the city, but close enough to hear the titanic explosions and spray cloud, even though it was miles away.

Selena herself hadn't fully understood the gravity of the situation until from atop a hill, she had seen the ocean retreat from the city's harbor, exposing the rock and marine life that had been left behind in the waters wake. It left in her an overwhelming feeling of dread and horror as the water had retreated, leaving only fear inside of her in its place.

She had seen some people walk out into the harbor, ants from where she was standing miles distant, but foolish ants. She remembered screaming something, what it was she couldn't remember exactly, but it had been like she was trying to tell those in the harbor to run away. That the water was coming back. Though she had been tired, exhausted from being up for hours and fighting for position amongst the teeming masses of fleeing civilians. She had run, and forced her crew to do the same.

They had run on top of the cars, trapped bumper to bumper with each other, careful not to slip on their sleek designs, denting the cheap and thin materials used to cover their body. They had run as fast as their terrain had allowed, until their lungs had burned and stomachs threatened to heave, and run further yet.

The panic had spread and Selena remembered people running, pushing, trampling each other even. Chased by wailing air raid sirens, low flying rotor copters with searchlights passing overhead, their pilots speaking from loud speakers. Emergency vehicles with flashing lights and the civil servants and disaster workers trying to direct them to safety, to make them stay calm. And failing as the people had surged past them.

Then, the water had come back. Not gently, but in a great tidal wave that had risen into the night sky like an angry giant, a god. The sound had been tremendous, a roar that had shaken Selena to her bones. The first victims had been those by the shoreline. The ones who had ventured to collect shells and floundering fish left behind by the retreating waves, only to be reclaimed with interest by the returning water.

Towers, proud structures of steel and glass had stood firm, blunting the onslaught of the mass of water, but even some of them had crumbled, torn down and apart by the ravenous waters. Those that stood firm, their windows cracking and smashing under the pressure, had forced the water to move and flow around them, following the open contours of the streets. Picking up and carrying the fleeing civilians, vehicles, and trash with it. Throwing them away or keeping them seemingly at random like a petulant child. All the while rushing closer and closer towards Selena and her crew.

She remembered flashes of pulling her crew, panting from exhaustion of a great stone staircase, higher away from the street and towards a huge libarium. What had happened next was vague and she didn't remember a lot of it, just screams. Lots and lots of screams, then silence.

She remembered seeing a pair of children being swept away into the current and her diving in after them. After that, Rachael performing CPR on her.

"I think I'm ready to stand up now," said Selena, grabbing Rachael's hand.

"Nice and easy Sarge. Nice and easy," coaxed her friend, supporting Selena, even when her leg had unexpectedly given out, a wave of dizziness passing over her. The next thing that Selena knew, was a crying woman hugging her and thanking her in between sobs with her head buried into Selena's chest. The husband, and likely father to the two children, awkwardly thanking her. Selena looked at Rachael questioningly.

"You jumped in the water when the kids got swept up by the water and pulled them out. But then you got hit by a floating car and almost drowned, you dumb bitch," berated Rachael playfully, but obviously relieved that Selena wasn't dead. "So then me and Lisa had to get you out."

"You were just happy to have a reason to kiss me weren't you?"

"I don't need a reason," deadpanned Rachael, making Selena burst out laughing, confusing the two parents since they had been speaking Gothic to each other.

"No, no, my friend just made me laugh. I actually don't remember pulling your kids out of the water," clarified Selena. "Are they alright?"

"Yes. Yes, thanks to you they're fine," sobbed the woman, wiping at her eyes with a soaked sleeve.

"We can never thank you enough," added the husband.

"You don't have to thank me, anyone would have done it. After all, the Emperor protects."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, I guess you don't know the saying," said Selena rather sheepishly. "The full saying is the Emperor protect and guards the faithful and the innocent. The Emperor is always watching over humanity, so we say that he protects us."

"I see. Well, I'm glad that he was acting through you to help us, thank you. Truly, thank you," said the woman, close to sobbing again, voice thick with restrained tears.

"It's alright," said Selena, feeling awkward at the praise. Can you guys find your way out of here by yourself? We've got to head back to the Imperial Embassy and I don't think that they'd let you inside."

"No, we should be able to get out of here now, thank you."

The next several hours was an endurance test of swimming, when they couldn't walk, trying not to get cut on submerged metal, or floating debris and broken glass. By the time they reached the embassy Selena was thoroughly soaked, cold, tired, and in a bitter mood. She knew that both Rachael and Lisa were feeling the same, but as the NCO, she kept any complaints and hardships to herself, maintaining an image of strength and perseverance when she would much rather have been complaining incessantly. Though the complaints would have died in her throat with about the third floating corpse she had needed to push out of the way.

Disaster teams were already entering the city, their helicopters circling overhead, boats starting to patrol the now flooded roads, and oddly enough main battle tanks roaming the freeways around the city. They had been spotted many times, but they had been ignored for the most part, others in much greater help than three able bodied guardswomen.

The door to the embassy with the giant brass Aquila welded to the front was unlocked, though the ground floor windows were broken, meaning that even once inside they had to wade their way through. Pushing floating filing cabinet drawers out of the way, their contents long since shredded before the water ever got to them. It seems that they had only waited so long as was practical and evacuated all the staff before the tidal wave had hit. Hastily following Imperial protocol for handling sensitive information.

The second floor, where personnel quarters were, was thankfully dry, and almost untouched save for opened footlockers and hastily packed personal possessions. The Two For Flinching crew found that their footlockers, and therefore most of what they owned were thankfully untouched.

"Why did they leave without us? Without a note or anything?" asked Lisa, as they changed into their Cadian Pattern Guard combat uniforms.

"Because we're just a trio of gear heads, we're not important enough to hold up an evacuation for when they don't know where we are."

"We're not even important enough to merit a seat on the shuttle if we had been here," added Rachael flatly.

"Corporal," said Selena, hint of warning in her voice.

"It's true Sergeant. Remember on Ragor II? They took us off world after they had gotten all the empty supply containers and las rifles. Hell, they took the office equipment before we could get a spot," continued the redhead bitterly. She yelped as Selena swatted her on the butt.

"That's enough outta you," scolded Selena, half playful, half serious.

"You hear that?" asked Rachael suddenly, perking up.

"Explosion. Heavy caliber, maybe four kilometers North, North West," said Selena, face getting stonily serious as an explosion shook the ground under the feet, hardly noticeable.

"What does that mean?" asked Lisa, as another explosion sounded.

"It means get your full battle rattle on ladies, and pray to the Emperor that the cog boys kept Two for Flinching charged and fueled up."

xxx

Watching the devastation from the falling Junius colony had been more than even Djibril had been expecting. He had expected death sure, but not to the extent that it had happened. Entire cities, entire coastlines had been completely obliterated, the Equatorial Union was especially hit hard. Reports were still coming in, but estimates were already at around a billion dead or would soon be dead. The Indian subcontinent had been hit both on the coast from tidal waves and further inland for falling debris of the colony.

They had sat out the last war though, so perhaps the damage to the Equatorial Union was more of a boon than a loss. A rallying cry against the coordinators for the naturals of earth to gather behind. The Atlantic Federation had largely escaped unscathed, save for a tidal wave which had hit New York. The Eurasian Federation had suffered some severe damage in the Mediterranean, but nothing crippling. Though the civilian losses were high. The African Unions had been hurt, but their military and industrial heartland was untouched. He would wait a few weeks before putting his plan into motion. Allow the wounds to fester, the misery to grow, and then he would unleash his plan.

Lord Djibril was not a man accustomed to inconvenience. In fact, he was a man used to having his every need and want tended to in short and punctual order. So when the power went out in his Luxemburg mansion, he was less than pleased to say the least when his TV monitors went black.

Emergency lights came on for a moment before the backup generators kicked in, his monitors springing back to life, lights brightening again, only to die again moments later in a muffled pop. The dim white light of the emergency lights once again coming alive in absence of outside power.

Djbril pursed his lips and from his pocked pulled out a phone from his breast pocket. There were only a few numbers on his phone, ones that were direct links to people who made his life easier or people who could make him or his interests more money.

He pushed a button and on the first ring it was answered.

"My power is out, why?"

"I'm sorry Lord Djibril, we're working on it now. We'll have it on again in five minutes at the most," answered the voice on the other end. Respectful, almost fearful and eager to please. The kind of men who Djibril liked. Men who knew what was expected of them, what they had to get done, but also who they served and why.

"Good. I will be timing you."

Djibril drank wine from a long stemmed glass while he waited, reclining in his custom made Swiss leather chair. Stroking his cat and listening to her purr, thinking of how they would recover from the colony drop and strike back. Hoping that the damage was light enough so that they wouldn't be crippled, but heavy enough so that the outrage of the people could be directed to the monsters that lived over top of their heads called Coordinators. Checking his watch and finding that more than five minutes had passed.

A tremor of anger and indignation coursed through him and setting his jaw tightly, Djibril pulled out his phone again and hit the same number again. The phone rang once, then ten times, then went to an answering service, before losing its service altogether. Djibril looked at the empty bars and in his rage hurled it to the far side of his underground command center, seething.

If those incompetents who worked for him couldn't handle so simple a task as keeping his lights on, then he would handle the situation himself. He would have new staff by morning too.

With his personal elevator out of order without even the backup generator, Djibril took the stairs, opening a meter thick door that swung noiselessly on hinges so well oiled, so perfectly balanced that he was able to open the mass of steel with only one hand. Powered by its own internal source, it opened automatically as soon as he had presented his keycard. Were for some reason that not enough, there were manual locks as well that he could open it using, knowing the combination off by heart.

He went to the main floor taking the stairs, each step only increasing his irritation. He hoped to find someone who could explain very quickly why his cellphone was no longer working and why nobody had fixed the power yet.

A fake painting opened outwards, allowing Djibril entrance to the main floor of his mansion.

It was a well furnished villa, with satin curtain, expensive Turkish rugs, Greco-Roman art sculptures, some real and others reproductions. Chinese vases adorned many stands, most of the Ming Dynasty or earlier and entirely authentic.

Djibril earned his incredible income from various shipping, telecommunication, and weapons manufacturing companies that he owned and managed. As such, he spent a great deal of money on frivolous things. Things that were expected of a man of his status and wealth to own and possess. Not necessarily things he wanted to have, but things that were necessary to have nonetheless.

Djibril had always been told that he walked with a too quickly, like he was late to be somewhere. He was never late for anything, punctual to a fault, almost obsessive really. No, he moved quickly, because he always had a great many things to get done and he felt that the time spent traveling from point A to point B was a waste of time.

He was walking to the security room when he felt a wet drop fall on his head from above. He wiped at it in irritation, incredulous that of all things that were going wrong, a pipe would develop a leak and wreck his ceiling. Another inconvenience.

It was wet, but it was sticky when he rubbed it between his fingers. With a start, Djibril realized that it was blood. He looked up and could only gaze in horror above him, mouth open in wordless horror, dry, with the acidic taste of fear welling up on his tongue. Bowels turning to water as he fought to control his terror. His body trembling even as his heart began to beat so fast it was as if it was going to leap out of his chest.

His entire staff, from maids to guards was suspended from the ceiling above him. Lacerated, cleaved, gouged, and all very much dead. Bled out like a rack of pigs at a slaughtering house they dangled above him like they were slabs of beef waiting for prime cuts of meat to be taken from them.

Djibril took a half step back in revulsion towards his underground safe room, but when he turned to run, he found himself confronted by for lack of a better term, a shadow. It blended so well into the darkness cast inbetween the emergency lights that Djibril was sure that if it hadn't wanted him to see it, he wouldn't have. But then again, why would it want him to see it.

It morphed into a more solid shape, going to the center of the hallway and just stood there as if daring Djibril to try and run past it. The thing's head came up and revealed an enamel white mask, a plain one like they would use in theater productions. It was cast in the shape of everlasting joy and it grinned obscenely at the carnage surrounding Djibril.

"Do…you know who you're dealing with? DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?" shouted Djibril, trying to give himself a measure of courage. He let out a whimper of horror when the smiling black clad shadow nodded it's head up and down. The smiling face making it all the more macabre.

Djibril turned on his heel to run, but had to stop short when he saw another black clad figure like the first standing a mere two paces in front of him. This one's enamel white mask carved into a theatrical expression of deep, unrelenting sorrow. Twin hooked blades in its hands, spinning silently within its grasp.

Djibril took a step back and bumped into a figure behind him, soft, but hard and unyielding. Glittering wires held in front of his throat as his breath caught in his chest. He could feel weight on his shoulder, and the iron hard arms that had looped around him.

The one with the grinning mask of joy was lazily resting on his shoulder, and looking at him. He could see through the eye holes of the mask and within he saw glittering golden eyes encased within. Djibril screamed.

AN: I'll put in how they broke apart Junius in the next chapter since I've hit my regular limit for this one. Leave a review and let me know what you think and I'll be sure to get back to you.